Harry th' hick
by Sijati
Summary: Harry Potter is secretly a hick! Fry mah hide! Will his friends accepp him th' way he natcherly is?


**Author's Note: **

Hey, it's Sijati! Hope you enjoy this story. It's a bit hard to read, but it CRACKS ME UP!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine! Fry mah hide!

Hugs & Kisses!

* * *

Howdy-doo, mah name is Harry Potter. ah's a sixteen year old o'phan an' ah still live wif mah aunt an' uncle, an' mah evil cousin, as enny fool kin plainly see. In fack, ah sh'd be a bachelo' in th' heart of London, tryin' t'lead a no'mal life. But thar's nothin' no'mal about me. On account o', yo' see, ah's kind of weird, cuss it all t' tarnation. This hyar guy, Voldemo't, killed mah parents. An' now he be hankerin' t'kill me. ah's a-gonna kill him fust, wif mah rifle. On account o', yo' see...ah sh'd be a redneck, but ah's a crazy English wizard instead, cuss it all t' tarnation. But thass all right. Ennyway, when ah was 11, ah got this hyar letter thet sent me t'Hogwarts Skoo of Witchcraf' an' Wizardry. At fust, mah aunt an' uncle'dn't let me go. But this hyar ruddy giant made them let me go. So yeah, he was mah fust friend, cuss it all t' tarnation. Mah second friend was Ron Weasley. He was a walkin' disaster. He had dirt on his nose. ah have no shoes, so I've got dirt on mah feet. Mah other friend was Hermione Granger. She's got a stick up her ass! But it's quite all right. Ennyway, in mah fust year at Hogwarts, ah larned a lot. Like stuff about mountain trolls, an' th' so'cerer's stone, an' professo' Snape. Then this hyar guy, Quirrell, he was wawkin' fo' Voldemo't. He c'dn't touch me, though. So ah killed him, dawgone it. Then mah second year, mah friend Ron Weasley's li'l sister, Ginny, got this hyar diary an' got sucked into it. Varmints started gittin' petrified, cuss it all t' tarnation. Like this hyar one cat. Ev'rybody thunk ah was doin' it. On account o' ah can talk t'snakes. It's purdy weird, cuss it all t' tarnation. ah bet yo' reckon ah's crazy now. Ennyway in mah third year, ah got a werewo'f fo' a skoo marm. An' ah foun' out thet mah godPappy is a serial killer. He was purdy right fine, though. He kin turn into a houn'dog. Yo'd reckon thet mah intire life is one crazy acid trip, but ah doesn't haf enny money fo' acid, cuss it all t' tarnation. Remember? ah have no shoes. They're too small, ah reckon. Ennyway, mah skoo marm thass a werewo'f got foun' out, so he had t'leave. An' mah godPappy got foun' out, too, so he scooted away. He has this hyar right fine bird fo' a pet. ah rode it once. It's purdy crazy. In mah fourth year, we gotta haf a competishun wif these two skoos. Th' snotty li'l french gals, an' th' scary Bulgarian fellas. Durmstrang, thet was th' name of th' skoo. Vikto' Krum went thar! Fry mah hide! He's a famous Quidditch player, yo' see. But yo've nevah heard of him, o' Quidditch, haf yo'? Thet's ok. Shet mah mouth! Ennywho, thar was only supposed t'be three champions, but ah got picked too. Ev'ryone was mad as a weasel in a blender at me. Even Ron was. He was a trimenjus bitch about it, too! Fry mah hide! Ennyway, it turns out thet this hyar professo', Moody was his name, was wawkin' fo' Voldemo't, an' was in disguise. So this hyar stud, Cedric, got killed, an' ah told ev'ryone thet Voldemo't was back. Shet mah mouth! No one believed me, though. Oh, ah also won thet tournament. In mah fif'h year, ah got swo'n into this hyar so't of secret society. Yo'd reckon it was a fraternity o' a cult of sumpin. It was awesome. We wawk fo' Dumbledo'e, th' principal, ah reckon. Ennyway, thar was a lot gwine on, as enny fool kin plainly see. This hyar one bitch, Umbridge, carved some wo'ds into mah han'. ah still haf a scar. An' ennyway, mah godPappy got thrown into this hyar curtain an' he hain't come out. So he's gone. Basically in mah sixth year, Dumbledo'e died, cuss it all t' tarnation. An' ah kissed Ginny, Ron's sister. ah reckon Ron likes Hermione. But ah doesn't knows if she likes him, dawgone it.Ennyway, a bunch of stuff happened, an' basically, ah's all alone in th' wo'ld, cuss it all t' tarnation. Agin. ah swar, ah doesn't reckon ah can stan' it. ah sh'd put on mah wife beater, six pack a couple of beers, an' shoot mahse'f in th' haid wif a rifle. Shit! Fry mah hide! But ah won't on account o' a nice li'l English fella sh'dn't. Ennyway, ah have t'kill Voldemo't, an' ah cain't be friends wif ennybody on account o' then he'll kill them all, ah reckon. Then ah won't haf enny friends. But ah's purdy dadburn close. 


End file.
